


Kink for Great Justice

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Bondage, Established Relationship, Humor, Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot, Porn Battle, Topping from the Bottom, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-14
Updated: 2009-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John may grumble a lot, but he's actually very accommodating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kink for Great Justice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle VIII, prompts: "kink, tied, roleplay".

John knows that Matt's unapologetic about liking the things he does: the figurines, the comics, the CDs of artists John can't even pronounce in his head. Matt likes weird shit, so naturally John has to put up with the weird shit until it becomes less weird and John's actually buying shelves for Matt to display his stupidly expensive collector’s items.

But John also knows about the layers of human nature, so it only makes sense that there's tricky little parts about Matt that haven’t made themselves visible yet. Just because they're sleeping together and haven't driven each other crazy, that doesn't mean that John knows everything — so he should, in theory, expect _anything_.

But Matt's not shy. He’s _cautious_, and the difference lies in how Matt goes about making these things known. The quirks and hobbies come by in little pieces, each one harmless, tacky, and soon enough blending into the background after John makes initial use of them to make fun of Matt.

Like the time that John found Matt’s comic book porn ("Erotica!" according to Matt). John is the farthest thing from a prude, but there were _things_ in there – things that had to have been _hand-drawn_ by some spaced-out motherfuckers – that are physically impossible and involve more fluids than the human body could possibly contain. So Matt had sulked until John had sighed, dragged out an issue and read a couple of lines aloud to get that pout off Matt’s face.

It worked, and they ended up reading dialogue to each other until Matt eyes had glazed over and John stopped finding it funny, and they ended up fucking on the floor. (John's knees weren’t happy.) It was only later, when they were picking up their clothing, that Matt confessed that he'd left the book out where John would find it. John wasn’t surprised.

Hence, John would pay good money that it’s not an accident when finds a piece of black cloth on the floor. Matt briefly looks up from his laptop and mutters distractedly, "Oh, that's nothing. Put it anywhere."

He could, but John finds himself looking at the cloth and rubbing it between his fingers. It's the cop part of his brain that's trying to place fit to a purpose, because it's smooth enough to be a handkerchief, but the shape is wrong.

He stands there long enough that Matt gets up from his seat and comes closer. Understanding clicks into place when Matt's fingers move and suddenly there's a knot around John's wrist. Then Matt's hands drop and he's walking back to the table, sliding calmly into his seat and typing away.

John undoes the knot and drops the cloth where it slides down the back of the couch.

For the rest of the day, John doesn’t mention it and Matt doesn’t even so much as glance its way. But when they get into bed and John starts a little comfortable mutual masturbation, he reaches over for a necktie and binds Matt’s wrists together. Matt looks at his hands like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, and comes pretty much the moment John touches his cock.

No one can say John can’t take a hint.

What does worry him is the way Matt looks at him the next morning, which isn’t so much like he’s amazed that John’s learned a new trick, but more like he’s already planning the next fucking three-ring circus. But the worry only lasts for an hour, tops, because c’mon, it’s _Matt_, excitable geek in an ill-fitting black t-shirt, and if John were really honest with himself (which he might be) it’s kinda nice to have that sort of attention on him.

He doesn’t even blink when – after two weeks of mostly-vanilla sex and no complaints – Matt sidles up to him on the couch, smiles, and says, “D’you know what would be hot?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so John looks over and says, “No air-conditioning in summer.”

It’s almost imperceptible, but John can see where Matt’s falls a little, like maybe he’s thinking he’s pushed too far and this is _it_, only here and no further. In order to correct that perception, John surges forward and catches Matt’s lower lip between his teeth.

Matt gets distracted pretty quick after that, and John doesn’t have his answer until much later.

“My birthday’s coming up,” Matt says. He’s mostly sprawled across the bed, fingers interlaced on his chest.

“Oh,” John says.

Matt swallows, looking a little hesitant. It’s at this moment that it occurs to John just how much Matt might be holding back. The thought makes John sit up, frowning a little as he studies Matt’s profile in the dim light. Even with the facial hair Matt looks terribly young, and John, in his bones, feels terribly old.

So John decides, right then and there, that since what they’ve got is at its core already pretty damn messed up, anything they do from this point should be a walk in the park.

More importantly, there is no fucking way that Matt’s going to out-kink John. Goddammit, John _earned_ these brass balls.

“Tell me what you want,” John says.

Matt looks over, considering how much he means what he just said. John is frozen for _maybe_ a second, because what if Matt’s into something that’s so fucking out there that John can’t even imagine it, but then Matt says it out loud, and John laughs.

“Thanks,” Matt says, sounding annoyed but looking relieved. “Thanks a lot.”

“_That’s_ what gets you off?” John says. “Talking dirty? Hell, I could do that in my sleep. I think I already have.”

“No, no, you got me wrong,” Matt says. Then he explains, in full detail, what he’d like to do.

John raises an eyebrow. “And how long have you been thinking about that?”

“Oh, not long,” Matt says lightly. “Maybe just a little while.”

John’s surprised by how good it is to hear Matt say that. Knowing that Matt has weird-ass fetishes makes John almost not have a leg to stand on with the kinds of things _he_ wants to do, because he’s quickly getting the feeling that Matt won’t even blink if (and when) John will bring them up, and _oh boy_ are things going to get interesting.

John takes the day off on Matt’s birthday, because it’s the least he can do. For starters.

They have a late breakfast on John’s tab down the street from the apartment, getting something unhealthy and artery-clogging. Matt’s even chattier than usual through the meal, practically bouncing in his seat and simply unable to hold the threads of conversation together while John finishes his coffee and tries to keep up.

“You’ve got to mean it,” Matt says, once they’re back home.

“Sure,” John says.

“No,” Matt says slowly. “_Mean it._”

John looks at Matt. He’s just starting to pack on extra muscle – a result of John’s good influence – but it’ll take more than that for John to pull this off without busting a gut laughing. “I think you better tie me up first.”

John’s somewhere between bemused and hesitant when they undress, because he really thinks he’s going to laugh and that’ll just make Matt pissed with him for goodness knows how long. It’s a good thing that when he lies down and Matt ties his wrists to the headboard, it becomes less funny. The knots are tight enough for John to remember they are there, pulling just enough at his shoulders for it to be interesting when they get going.

Matt sits back and looks, slow gaze moving down John’s body. “Hey, what’s that?”

John looks. “I’m tied up and we’re both naked. Sue me for getting interested.”

“You’re not supposed to be interested,” Matt says. “Get into character.”

John struggles to control his face, because it’s still _Matt_, and this is kind of ridiculous.

Suddenly Matt’s hand is around his throat, harder than John’s ever felt it. Matt’s breath ghosts across his face. “Well, well, well, John McClane, what _are_ we going to do with you?”

Matt’s voice has a whole new timbre to it, smooth and tight like the knots now holding John’s hands in place. John shuts his eyes and sends his mind to a familiar place. He’s never used it in a situation like this, but it’s a well-worn suit, comfortable and easy to pull on. He opens his eyes and he’s right there.

“Here’s a thought,” John says, looking right back into Matt’s eyes. “You could let me go and I could kick your ass.”

“Ah, droll,” Matt says, letting go of John’s throat. “I’ve heard so much about the infamous McClane wit, forgive me for not applauding.”

“I’ll be here ‘til Wednesday, don’t forget to tip the doorman,” John says.

“You will tell me what I need to know, McClane, or you will suffer.”

“What the fuck kind of accent is that?” John says, sliding a little out of character because, _really_? “Your mom got lost on the turnpike or something?”

Matt’s eyes widen. John thinks maybe that was too much, but then Matt reaches out knocks John’s balls lightly with the back of his head.

“_Jesus Christ_!” John says, though his reaction is more surprise than outright pain. Matt’s never done _that_ before. “What the—!”

“We have ways,” Matt says, bending to pick up something from the floor. “Of making you talk.”

“Oh, hey, that’s not a problem. I can talk all day and night, you could just—”

The words trail off when Matt stands up and John sees what he’s holding. _Huh._ Something unexpected curls low in John’s belly – curious, wary and maybe even a little impressed, because Matt had never mentioned using other accessories.

John forgets to speak while Matt slides a condom on the dildo and lubes it up, though he could excuse that by it being him staying in character.

“Look, I don’t know anything.” John moves a little against the mattress as Matt crawls towards him. “Whatever you want, whatever it is, I don’t—I’m just a _guy_, I don’t know what any of this is about!”

“I’ll let you know when I start believing you.” Matt pushes John’s thighs apart, lifting the knees and helping him brace his feet on the mattress. This is part of the illusion, because in reality John would just aim a heel to the back of Matt’s head, neat as pie – and he definitely wouldn’t let Matt move his hips to where the angle is better and push the alien thing _in_.

It’s smaller than Matt’s cock, so the slide is easy, but there’s nothing friendly about the hardness, and there’s no sign of the warm pulse that John’s used to.

“You kinky bastard,” John mutters. Then he makes the mistake of shifting a little. “_Whoa._”

“Are you interested in cooperating with us now, Mister McClane?” Matt asks.

“I’m gonna kick your sorry little ass, you son of a bitch, that’s what I’m interested in.”

“Really?” Matt says. He reaches down to the dildo, and twists.

“Oh, _hel_lo!” The discomfort makes John move by instinct, but it just makes that _thing_ press in. There’s nowhere to move, and it just occurs to John that that’s kind of the point.

He looks down, and Matt’s not looking at him – well, he’s not looking at John’s _face_. John doesn’t want to know what he looks like, but it must be quite the sight, if it’s making Matt breathe heavily and face go flushed pink.

“Enjoying the view down there?” John says.

Matt’s eyes move up slowly, dark and heated, to meet John’s. “I see I’m not the only one enjoying this. My, my, my, vat vill ve do vit you, McClane?” The accent is getting worse, shifting in and out of B-movie territory via Eddie Izzard.

“That’s automatic.” John rolls his eyes. “Don’t mean shit.”

“Perhaps,” Matt says, and then he leans down and swipes his tongue behind John’s balls, down to where the skin is stretched around the dildo.

John’s mouth opens, and then closes.

“Perhaps it vould be best if you just admit it, Mister McClane,” Matt says, resurfacing. “You are also ze kinky bastard, yes? You vill scream, and you vill tell us vat ve vant to know.”

Okay, it’s still ridiculous, but John’s _feeling_ it, sliding into this little story because Matt has quite possibly never been this hot before – or made _John_ feel this hot. John frowns, tilts his head up a little, and channels his inner B-movie hero. “Never! I will die first, you goddamn goatfucking shithead.”

Matt freezes, hand jumping up quickly to grab the base of his cock.

“What the ever-loving sick fuck?” John says, forcing his voice to go low and growly. “That thing comes anywhere near my mouth and you’re gonna be stitching up the pieces.”

Matt groans and wobbles backward a little.

John smirks – it’s in-character, after all – and manages to move one knee just enough to brush Matt’s forearm. “You gonna blast off there, hotshot? Not so tough now, are ya?”

“You are ze one who is not so tough,” Matt says, regaining composure with a deep breath. “Laugh as you like, but I vill make you come, and you vill enjoy it. Zat vill be your betrayal.”

John barks a laugh at that. “Think I’ll pass.”

“You say you vill not come?” Matt says, moving closer to slide a condom in place. (The condom’s rather out-of-character, but if Matt won’t mention it, neither will John.) His fingers are business-like, sliding more lubricant across John's shaft. “Is zat your promise, Mister McClane?”

“I’m saying that _that_ is just biology,” John says. “It has nothing to do with you, or weren’t you paying attention?”

“Oh, but it does,” Matt says, climbing on top of John. “It is everything to do with me.”

The way Matt’s positioning himself is perfectly clear, right hand coming up to John’s shoulder while the other’s positioning John’s cock in place. John knows it's coming, grunting at the first breach, but then Matt’s lowering himself down slowly and – _oh shit_, he’d forgotten about the dildo.

When Matt comes all the way down, the dildo _shifts_.

“Oh Jesus, _fuck_, Matt!” John can’t help it, it’s too much.

Matt makes a low grumbling sound, both hands coming to John’s head to shake him, forcing him to open his eyes. “Ah, ve finally get somewhere, Mister McClane. A name: Matt. Who is this Matt? Is he your informant?”

John has to gasp for breath a few times before he can find any words at all. “Pet fish. Does a neat little somersault for his food, swear to god.”

“More with ze jokes,” Matt huffs, and that’s when he starts grinding.

It’s bad enough that Matt’s so tight, clenching around John with the warmth his body has learned to crave. But there’s the matter of what’s going on at the _other_ end, for with every move Matt makes, it _pushes_ and John’s quickly losing track of what he’s supposed to be paying attention to. He laughs.

“Vat is funny now?”

“This is what it’s like to get double-fucked,” John says. “Gotta cross that off the list of things to do before I die.”

Matt laughs, too, and it’s partially his real laugh, masked only a little by the deliberately breathy “Ha ha ha” villain cackle. “You are indeed ze good fuck. Maybe ze best, now you are so willing.”

“Fuck you,” John says.

“So _willing_,” Matt repeats. He puts his hands on John’s chest, leaning forward to change the angle. “I bet no one sees you like zis, no one knows you can be so accommodating.”

Suddenly, it’s not funny anymore. Matt is riding him with a vengeance, the dildo is pushing _up_, and John wants to stop playing. What he _does_ want to do right now is touch Matt, kiss him, and most definitely squeeze that cock leaking on John’s stomach. He can feel it building up fierce and bright, and it will be good – but John can make it better.

“Yes.” John’s voice goes soft and breathy.

Matt is startled, his eyes regaining some of their focus. “Vat?”

“Yes, yes, I want this,” John says. “Give it to me, I want this, anything you want, you can do anything to me.”

Something in Matt’s face breaks, and he says, in the voice that is completely Matt Farrell, “Oh _god_, John.” His hands are shaking where they reach up to undo the knots around John’s wrists, act gone.

John exhales with relief, and his hands immediately come to Matt’s forearms. Matt has the same idea, because he’s right there, kissing John messily, mouth uncoordinated and panting. John gets his fingers into Matt’s back to pull him closer, and he shifts a little further down the mattress, lifting his hips for the first desperate thrust upwards.

“_Shit_,” Matt drawls. “Zis is not ze plan. You cannot seduce me, John McClane.”

“Not planning to,” John says, and he’s meeting Matt right there, thrust for grind.

Then Matt gasps, body quaking with release, and he's making a right mess all over John’s chest. At the last of it, Matt makes a tight, wordless sound that is somehow both desperate and triumphant at the same time. John’s ready for his turn, but he’s still taken by surprise when Matt reaches back and starts pumping the dildo, somehow finding the right angle without seeing, and yeah, John loses it pretty quick, coming in sharp, bright bursts.

Matt’s breath is cold against John’s sweaty shoulder. “I vin.”

“What?” John has to clear his throat of the croak before he continues. “This is a win-win situation.”

“Ah, maybe you’re right,” Matt says, back to his normal voice.

John reaches down, wincing when he pulls the dildo out. “That was a stupid accent.”

“That's a stupid face.”

“Eh, matches the rest.” John’s still smiling, drifting easily on the afterglow, arms around Matt and with absolutely no intent to move.

Matt’s voice is almost too soft to hear. “What do _you_ want? There has to be something – something I can do for you.” He turns to look at John. His expression is curious and tired, but there’s the echo of familiar hunger in those eyes. “I didn’t think you would… You know.”

“Matt,” John says carefully, “There’s a _lot_ I want to do to you. And I consider _this_ permission to do the fuck all I want. Just a head’s up. So you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Matt grins, pleased. “Gotcha.”


End file.
